Starstruck: an Adoring Fanfic
by Skarlote Edjj
Summary: By Azura, by Azura, there she was! Standing right there, almost within arm's reach!
1. Chapter 1

A bosmer boy fell to the ground in tears, and looked up sobbing at his assailants.

"Only four drakes!" A dark elf bully emptied a coinpurse into his hand. "You've been getting lazy!"

"I'd say so!" A nord boy had grabbed a twig and poked the bosmer's belly. "We gots us a soft boy!"

"Haha, you're fat!" The dark elf laughed. "And your hair looks stupid."

The bosmer scrambled to his feet and ran. The stinging tears blurred his vision. He ran away to the one place where bullies couldn't get to him: the arena. There, he could pretend he was one of the warriors in the pit. He could admire their strength, their ferocity. He used to study them for some sort of technique, some secret. But he soon learned that even the best training gave way to desperate instinct when your life is on the line.

And good instinct was just something he didn't have.

The seats were mostly empty this morning. It was only pit dogs battles scheduled on Mundas mornings. But in his opinion, some of the best battles were between the pit dogs. He could relate to them: trampled and disrespected. He could dream with them. Any one of these put dogs could rise through the ranks and become the next champion. Maybe even dethrone the gray prince.

And just as he was daydreaming of an underdog hero, there _she_ was.

_A/N: For years, I have let my stories go so early that I didn't even bother to post them. So I'm flexing my typing muscle and writing this trash pretty much stream-of-consciousness so that I can actually finish something. Please roast._


	2. Chapter 2

They called her The Beast. And it was quickly apparent why. She only accepted fights that were to the death. It was so bold, so brave.

He put his elbows on the railing in the cheap seats, and rested his cheeks in his hands. He gazed dreamily at the girl below, who bashed her shield and snarled at a wizard foe. Her dark orcish skin glistened from the sweat and blood under the noonday sun.

He only wished the seats could be closer. He'd never gotten the chance to get a good look at her.

His room down at the waterfront soon filled with ticket stubs, betting ledgers, and posters. The artist couldn't quite capture her (as far as he could tell from so far away), and she was a small background detail among the more popular combatants displayed in the poster, but it was something. He even managed to catch some blood on a handkerchief after the fight with the twins. He'd nearly been caught by the guard when he sneaked in the pit that night.

"And The Beast is again victorious!" the announcer roared, shaking him from his trance. "How far will she tear up the ranks?"

The Beast roared, spreading her arms and throwing her head back as if soaking in the boos and cheers.

Weeks later, he heard the news he'd been waiting for. She challenged the Yellow Team one last time for a championship.

He raced to the betting table and was face-to-face with Hundolin. Hundolin rolled his eyes. "Already, kid?"

The bosmer boy said nothing, plucking off his shoe and extracting 5 gold coins.

"You can just put those in the pot." Hundolin wrinkled his nose.

He smiled and tossed in his coin. He spun around, about to skip his merry way home, but instead slammed right into some large hard monolith that had apparated behind him.

"Oof!" He cried, landing hard on the ground. He rubbed his forehead and glanced up.

An orc girl peered at him down her short nose and snorted.

_By Azura, it was her!_

He gaped like a fish out of water. This was his first good look at her up close, but he could tell. Her arena raiment, her proud stance, and those large distinctly orcish braids that hugged the sides of her skull. Her pale blue eyes cut through him.

"Move pipsqueak!" she bellowed.

He crawled aside like a mud crab The Beast sauntered up to Hundolin.

"No." Hundolin scowled up at her.

"You said it wasn't against the rules." She sneered. Her voice was gravelly, but haughty.

"It is now." Hundolin puffed up his chest. "You already get your winnings. No need to bet on yourself."

"Really, you got the rules changed for little old me?" She crossed her arms. Well-toned and glistening arms, the boy noticed.

"Here!" Hundolin dug out a book from behind the betting chest. He flipped through the pages and shoved it in her face. "You can see the amendment right here!"

She scanned it for a minute, then snorted. "You elves, using rules and regulations to look big. I thought your people were supposed to be cannibals!"

Hundolin went red in the face. "Unlike your kind, we act like civilly, like citizens of the empire around here. Now get!"

She laughed and sauntered off. Only now did the boy start to struggle to his wobbly feet.

'Unbelievable!" Hundolin slammed his rule book shut, and glanced down at the boy. "If we were interested in those traditions, we'd be back in Valenwood, wouldn't we?"

"She is..." He searched for the word.

"Bold?" Hundolin offered with a touch of sarcasm.

"Breathtaking..." The boy sighed.

Hundolin shook his head, and began to pack up for the day.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N Time: Wow, I expected fanfic writing to be like being a dude on Tinder: not a lot of attention or feedback. But wow, you guys come through. TES is a great fandom and I'm lucky!_

_Also, got a new cover, with the permission of the talented catthing over at DeviantArt. Check her out!_

* * *

"I know youse been keeping them coins in youse shoes, fatty!" The dark elf sneered at the bosmer.

The Nord shoved him to the ground and the two yanked off his shoes.

"Nothing?!" The Nord yelled, scowling at thee empty shoes.

"Youse gots to have a hiding place!" The dark elf snatched the bosmer boy and yanked him up by the collar.

"I-I swear, I already spent it-!" He half-lied. For now, it was in Hundolin's safekeeping until the championship match was over.

"I know a hiding place." A familiar voice growled from behind the Nord, before he was lifted off the ground. "Let's check your ass!"

That one-liner needed some work and had some unfortunate implications, but who was he to complain? His champion-to-be was rescuing him!

"Run away!" the dark elf cried, fleeing and waving his hands over his head.

The Beast pitched the Nord at the running dunmer, and the two bullies crashed to the ground.

"Wow," the bosmer boy gasped.

But his hero didn't stick around to check on him or even say hi. Instead, she guffawed, cracked her knuckles, and chased after the screaming pair.

* * *

"This is unprecedented, folks! Is the Beast a no-show?"

Her adoring fan sunk in his seat. It was all his fault. If the guards had caught her pummeling his bullies, they would have gotten the wrong idea. The thought of her in prison made his eyes sting, and he blinked stray tears away.

Her three opponents were caught between laughing and complaining. An orc, run away from a fight?

A pounding cane from the gates where Porkchop scrambled restlessly.

"Blue team's boar Porkchop is biting at the bit! Wait..."

The fans looked at the gate from the announcement. Shouting came from the blood works. And then, the clanging of metal. The bosmer boy leapt to the railing and leaned dangerously far.

Could it be?

Bursting through the door, there she was! The orc girl, tailed by trio of guards.

"Good people of Tamriel, The Beast delivers! And with a surprise, it seems! Lower the gates!"

Her fan whooped like he never whooped before. Pounding on the railing. This was it!

The Beast ducked a blow from a guard and snatched his blade. Wrenching it from his hands, she swung the pommel at the archer combatant.

" And already a Yellow Team fighter is down! These guards aren't slowing the beast one bit!"

The archer had fallen, blood leaking from every facial orofice. The Beast was already swinging back to smash the pommel over a guards helmet and chest plate, stunning him.

It was odd, seeing someone grip a sword backwards, swinging around the butt end like a war hammer, but he didn't love her for following convention. "Get 'em , Beast!" he cried.

She swooped the first-fighting dark elf, landing him on his back before smashing the second guard into a wall. She spun to face the final guard, who retreated to the gate.

Now it was down to her and the yellow team's champion, decked out in full Dwarven armor.

She still gripped the sword backwards, sneering and laughing.

The champion swung his warhammer, and the beast blocked it with the middle of her stolen blade.

The boy gasped. He could see the blood running from her palms down the blade.

She kicked the champion. Dwemer armor didn't dent easily, but it was forceful enough to stun. The rattled champion loosened his warhammer enough for the beast to slide it down her sword and into the dirt.

Still griping the slippery red blade, she guided it through a small gap in his armor.

The bosmer boy held his breath.

Slowly, the yellow team champion sunk to the ground, a pool of blood growing underneath him.

Waves of booing rumbled the arena, and she basked in it. The Beast tackling not one but three yellow team elites? Many fortunes were lost that day, but one bosmer's was made.

As she exited the arena and the shouting crowds dispersed, he decided to tarry for a few minutes; Porkchop still had the last guard lined against the wall and the others were just starting to come to. It was nothing like the spectacle that preceded this scene, but it was still a show.

The blood soaking the ground had quickly gone brown, except for one strangely vibrant spot of red gleaming in the sun. In fact, it seemed to be framed in a touch of gold.

He raised an eyebrow. Perhaps tonight would be good to grab another souvenir.

* * *

_A/N: Our adoring fan probably needs a name. It is taking all of my willpower not to call him Stan. Thoughts are welcome, and thank you guys so much for the attention!_


	4. chapter 4

_A/N: Sorry for the late post. And this is on mobile, so I might have to fix the formatting... _On first glance, it looked impressive; in reality, it was a piece of junk. The blasted thing couldn't even stay on.

He shuffled through the dark empty streets; he knew how to move along unnoticed relatively well. Not once had he been mugged after dark. Daytime had always been a different story.

He gazed at it. It was a large jewel, probably a ruby, hung from what looked like a golden chain. He considered getting it appraised, but where it came from mattered much more than what it was, anyway.

He thought he heard footsteps behind him. As he turned around, he only saw the shadow of the arena, looming over him.

Instinct assured him he was not alone though. Where were the guards?The market district was just up ahead. There had to be guards looking over the shops... Of course, considering that he was an obvious commoner carrying a massive jewel in his pocket, this might be a terrible idea.

His hesitation made the decision for him, as a shadowy figure blocked the archway to the district.

"You have something that isn't yours, boy." a voice breathed on his neck.

He jumped, and spun around, darting back. He was surrounded by three men in scarlet robes.Instinctively, he clutched the amulet in his pocket.

"Hand it over, and you can forget this ever happened." the man behind him still whispered, but it felt like a roar.

He stepped back.

Sure, it was a piece of junk, but at this point it didn't matter. It was about his pride. He had pride, right?

When he did reach the conclusion that he had not only pride but dignity, he bolted.

The slapping of leather shoes on the stone paths crept behind him--closer and closer...

Then a loud succession of thuds, slaps and punches. By the time he'd turned around, he thought he'd also heard the snapping of bones, including the distinct sound of breaking necks.

An old imperial stood above the scarlet hooded thugs, who now lay twitchiing on the ground. He wore a tattered beggar's rags, and his threadbare hood was down, displaying a ring of white hair around a dome that shone under the lamplight.

The bosmer boy stared at him in wonder, and gingerly stepped forward. "Thank you, sir!" He gasped.

The imperial didn't offer any "you're welcomes." Instead, he snatched the bosmer by the collar and pulled him in until their noses nearly touched.

"What were you doing with that amulet?" He hissed.

"I--uh..." he stammered. Seriously, what was he doing? Hoping to smoothly go up to his idol and say _oh here, you dropped this? _

"I...found it." He said truthfully. The imperial's lines carved into his face deepened.

"In the arena!" he clarified. "It was in the pit after the Beast's fight."

"The she-orc?" The imperial asked flatly, and the bosmer nodded.

"By Talos!" He groaned. "She took a detour to have a brawl?! Ugh, do you know where she went?"

Her fan shrugged.

"Well, I'll be taking that." The imperial held out his hand. "The head of my order will want to see this."

The bosmer recoiled, clutching the amulet to his chest.

"Do you even know what you're holding? Don't make me hurt you, kid." The imperial growled.

The boy stared down at the amulet in his palm. "You...you think you'll run into her?"

"If she can follow instructions eventually, then yes. Why?"

"Can..." he gulped. "Can I come with you, then?"

The imperial sighed, and stared a moment at the amulet. "If you give me the amulet, then sure. Just don't get in the way."

"Oh yes--I mean, oh no I won't, sir!"

The imperial snatched the amulet, and immediately went into a rapid stride. With a bit of struggling, the bosmer boy managed to keep up.

"I'm Stan, by the way." The fan panted. "What's your name?"

The imperial hesitated for a moment. "Caius. Caius Cosades."

_A/N: Swerve! Hopefully the Morrowind nerds among you enjoy this! You know who you are ;)_

_And yes, I gave in and named him Stan. Any objections, and I'll change it to something more dignified. _


	5. Chapter 5

_My dearest brother,_

_I'm writing you in these difficult days with happy news! I have found our father's inheritance! Think what you will of me, but I do not begrudge this from you. I ask that you return home with haste so that -_

"Do you mind?" Caius shielded the letter with his shoulder, and Stan reluctantly stepped back.

"Is it a coded message?" he asked enthusiastically.

"Why do you ask? And so loudly?" Caius glanced around the empty streets of the Talos district.

"I'm sorry." Stan whispered. "It's just, you're so good at fighting, and so secretive. Are you a spy? That would be so amazing!"

Caius scowled and returned to his letter.

Stan rocked on his toes. He had woken up this morning to stuff his last gold in his shoes to gamble on a dream. And now tonight, he was on a mysterious adventure with a seasoned fighter. He wondered how far he would venture from his terrible rundown hovel on the waterfront.

"Let's get moving." Caius muttered, shaking Stan from his daydreams. He held the folded letter, sealing it with a chewed piece of bread. He scribbled an address on the back.

He darted across the street to where a beggar slept beneath a pile of rags.

"Lilian," he hissed, shaking the dirty pile.

The lump groaned and slowly sat up to reveal the face of an old woman. "Caius? What time even is it?"

"Late," he admitted, shoving the letter in her hand. "Please get this to the black horse courier."

"You know they're not actual couriers, don' cha?" Lillian groaned.

"Tell them I sent you." He shoved a few gold coins in her hand as well. "Give this letter to them as soon as they open up."

"Fine, fine," she raised her eyebrows at the gold. "I'll keep it warm for ye and deliver it safe n' sound."

"You are as beautiful as Dibella herself, Lillian!" Caius beamed.

"Yeh, yeh." She buried her gold and the letter in her pile of rags, and collapsed back into a deep sleep.

Caius stepped back out into the street, trailed by his unlikely companion.

"Oh, you have a network?" Stan bounced on his toes.

"Will you at least button your lip till we're out of the city?" Caius growled.

Stan complied, and they snuck out the gates. He had practice sneaking around thanks to his midnight trips to the arena, but Caius was so masterful at stealth that he himself almost lost him.

Within minutes of crossing the stone bridge and running into the wilderness, Stan was already winded, and his feet were sore. With each footfall, he chanted to himself, "worth it, worth it, worth it..."

"Are you okay kid?" Caius muttered over his shoulder.

"Never-" he gasped in air "-been better in my life!"

Caius grunted.

They faced through the hills and fields til dawn, where they finally collapsed and called for the day.


	6. Chapter 6

_And here it is, what you guys have been waiting for! Buckle up and get a glass of milk, cause it's about to get spicy! Giving a shoutout to my husband for inspiring this scene (please don't ask how). _

* * *

Was it lipstick she wore, or the blood of her foes? He didn't care, sitting on the edge of the bed, slackjawed and clutching the silken sheets.

She towered over him, dressed in revealing red battle raiment. Her quads rippled and her arms glistened.

"So, I hear that puny elf likes them stronk!" her red lips curled over her orchish tusks.

He nodded so fast his head rattled. "Yes, ma'am!" he whispered.

She shoved him into his back. "Relax, pipsqueak."

He couldn't if he wanted to. His heart raced and his bowels tensed; no false moves here.

She turned around and bent over. He lifted his head to get a nice up skirt glance at her rock hard caboose, clad in leather.

She stood up and turned around, holding a massive watermelon over her head.

"I considered ripping a book, but I know puny elves like getting messy."

He began to hyperventilate. Like a vice, her arms pressed on the watermelon. It began to creak.

_Oh my_.

She began to grunt, then roar, as the watermelon began to bulge.

She opened her mouth wide, baring her massive teeth and howling as the watermelon burst into a rain of red sticky chunks.

CAW! CAW!

The cry of a crow shook him awake, he bolted up to a flurry of back wings retreating from him.

"Oh, go fornicate yourselves!" he shouted at the birds, and slammed himself back on the ground. He'd now woken from the dream sunburnt and with a pounding head. It took him a moment to realize where he was, the soothing breeze brought him to his senses.

He was miles away from home, in the wilderness, with an old imperial man, on his way to some unknown destination. This probably should have concerned him, but the sudden return of adrenaline stole his sobriety. He was on an adventure!

Caius had made himself busy : he trudged into their makeshift camp with four fresh rats hanging from his belt. "Breakfast?" he offered with a raised white eyebrow.

It was only then that he felt his stomach boil dryly, begging for food.

Caius chucked, and knelt by a rough stone firepit. He must have gathered wood and tinder as Stan slept.

"Oh, thank you, thank you!" he bolted upright. The pair began the work of skinning the rats and starting the fire.

30 minutes later, they enjoyed their paupers' meals, biting crispy flesh from the roasted rats.

"So," Caius studied his meal. "Why did you insist on tagging along?"

Stan gulped down an unchewed bite. His decision to follow Caius had been impulsive.

"I, uh..."

"Look," Caius's brown eyes were sharp, and cut into Stan. "I'm a man of my word, and I'll let you tag along if that's still your choice, but I don't want to have another dead kid on my conscience."

"I know, but there's nothing left for me back-wait 'another?'"

Caius looked westward. "Sun's getting low, we'd better get moving soon." He went over to the fire, reached into his robe, and pulled out a skooma pipe.

"Woah! Woah!" Stan held up his hands.

"Look, I won't judge the kind of tail you're chasing, you don't judge me for my vices!" Caius scowled, drawing a lit twig from the fire and lighting the pipe.

He poured in the skooma, let it sit for a minute. The smell singed at Stan's nostrils, but Caius seemed to relish in the aroma before inhaling deeply.

Stan shook his head, and mentally prepared himself for another long night of running.


	7. Chapter 7

It took nearly a week to trek northward to Jerral mountains. Just how far would they go?

Stan's feet had gone sore, then bruised, then blistered, then briefly bloody. He dared not take his shoes off at this point, because he knew he wouldn't like his new feet.

He didn't know how long he'd been starting at the ground, when he walked right into Caius's back.

"Oof!" Stan fell back on his rump. "What-?"

He gazed up and the sky above Caius had gone an eerie red. Caius stood frozen. "Do you see that?" His voice shook.

Stan gingerly got to his feet. Up ahead, he followed Caius's gaze to a strange ripple in the air, and the orange glow surrounding it.

"By the Nine Divines," Caius whispered, gazing at the rippling flames surrounding the stone apparatus. It was perhaps a mile off, but still far too close for comfort. Scorching winds reached Caius and Stan; it smelled of sulfur and rotting flesh.

"What is that thing?" Stan's voice trembled.

"It's the end of days."

Caius had taught Stan a thing or two about being light on your feet, but that scamp was one clever bastard. Pinned against the sheer cliffside, Stan let out an undignified squeak.

"Dammit," Caius muttered and stepped from behind the rock. Just in time, the scamp noticed Caius's movement and turned its head.

"Go back to your pit," Caius snarled, snatching the thing's tiny wrist, and twisting its arm back. The scamp could barely start screeching before Caius's other hand reached over and wrung its neck.

"I've never seen a daedra before," Stan whimpered.

Caius pursed his lips. "The barriers to Oblivion are falling."

"But why, though?" Stan's wobbly legs made an effort to get his weight off the rock.

"With the emperor dead-"

"The emperor's dead?!"

Caius stared at the bosmer kid in slight disbelief for a moment, then shook his head.

"Anyway, the barriers between us and oblivion are dissolving faster than I thought. This is not good. "

"Alright, here we are!" Caius pointed at the large building at the top of the road. "Cloud Ruler Temple."

"Wow!" Stan had never seen architecture quite like it: Stone walls, finely sculpted wooden accents, and sharp angular edges. It was beautiful.

They'd been looking so intently, that they nearly missed the horse bolting around the corner.

"Woah!" Stan cried, nearly trampled by the thing.

"Ugh!" A familiar voice grumbled from atop the horse.

Stan's eyes popped open, and he scrambled to his feet.

"Wait!" He called out, running forward just to get a glimpse of his Beast, riding gracefully on that horse down the mountain, her braids blowing in the breeze.

He'd missed her.

His hand and his shoulders dropped. All that walking, running, fighting rats, and dodging demons. He'd climbed literal mountains for her, and she just slipped away.

"Hey kid," Caius clapped a hand on Stan's shoulder. "Let's get up there. I'm sure she'll be back."

They marched through the heavy doors and past the stone walls.

"Wow," his eyes went wide setting the temple up close. It was huge and exotic, and beautiful. Much like his champion.

"Alright, kid..." Caius grabbed his elbow and guided him to the double doors.

The brisk mountain air retreated from the warmth that radiated from the hall. Armored men and women paced around the tables, eating and speaking in hushed tones. A man in priestly robes stared intensely at his book, surrounded by piles of more.

One of the armored men (a soldier? A guard?) made a double take at Caius.

Caius waved. "Did Jaffrey make it?"

"He's in his quarters." The man said stiffly. For someone so poised and elite, he seemed uncertain about Stan's odd companion. And the way his eyes flickered towards Stan, he was staring to feel uncertain himself. "He not to be disturbed."

"Please," Caius clapped a hand on the man's paldron. "Tell him I have that present I wrote him about."

Stan's head bobbed between the two imperials.

The man threw them both an apprehensive stare, and strode towards the quarters.

This grandmaster was slightly smaller than Caius, and though it was difficult to tell under the armor, Stan was sure that he didn't have quite the hulking build that Caius boasted.

Otherwise, these humans looked identical. By golly, they aged horribly; say what you will about elven hairlines, but at least those stay put.

"Little guy found the amulet, right in the arena pit. And just in the nick of time before the Mythic Dawn did," Caius ruffled Stan's yellow hair. "He wanted to tag along, and I suppose we could make him useful around here."

It did sound exciting, but Stan was starting to wander what he was really getting himself into.

Jauffrey peered down at Stan, who could only shrink. "What have you told him?"

"Nothing yet," a mocking tone colored the edge of Caius's voice. "Don't worry, I'm deferring to your wisdom, Grand Master."

Jauffrey shot him a scowl. "We'll discuss this later. Just give me the amulet."

Caius shrugged and reached into his pocket. His large fingers emerged from the bottom of the pocket and he froze.

Jauffrey's stare hardened. "Caius..."

Caius looked up at him like a guilty child, wiggling his fingers through the hole. He patted himself in absent hope that the amulet was stored in some other pocket, but no.

It was gone.


	8. Chapter 8

There was an eruption in Cloud Ruler Temple, and some guards had shuffled Stan back into the great hall. Little good that did, as the walls were literally paper.

The priest peered over his shoulder in the direction of the shouting match, lips pursed. When the front door slammed open, he glanced at it and immediately retreated into his book.

Stan turned and like an angel surrounded the godrays streaming in from the brisk afternoon, she stood proud in the doorway, tailed by a winded man in that same armor.

"So fine, where is he?" she marched right past Stan and barreled into the quarters. Stan dared to follow. She darted through the halls and threw open a sliding paper wall.

Jauffrey scowled at her. "And you! You were trusted with the amulet of kings in exchange for your freedom, and what do you do? Immediately drop it in some brawl!"

"Championship. Fans would literally rather see the world end then have me not show up."

Jauffre went red. "Is this a joke to you?"

She grunted, and he scoffed.

He dug through the chest for a moment, then finally extracted a round piece of glass. "Take this, it's enchanted with a spell to detect enchantments. Don't lose it." He scowled at the beast.

She snorted and grabbed it, the glass had a chain hanging from it, and Stan realized that it was a monocle. So did the Beast, apparently, as she wrinkled her nose at it.

"Meanwhile, Caius, meet up with Barus back in the Elven Gardens district. I believe he has a lead into infiltrating the cult that murdered the emperor."

Caius cleared his throat. "Before I go gathering intel," he stared pointedly at his leader. "Perhaps you would be interested in what I've already gathered, now that our emperor is dead."

"Really now," Jauffrey spat. "We all know how hard you've been... 'working' since you've been back in Cyrodill."

Caius shrugged and held up his hands. "About a hard as I worked in Morrowind."

Jauffre studied him sternly. "So it would seem."

"My oh my," Caius crossed his arms. "Was that an insinuating little retort? Where oh where did our esteemed Grand Master learn to do such a thing?"

"This isn't grandmother Dana's, Caius. You're not going to pick a fight and get a rise out of me."

"As if I ever picked a fight, or had the need to."

The two men suddenly remembered their audience: the adolescent orc and wood elf stood gaping awkwardly at this family squabble.

Jauffre cleared his throat and addressed the beast. "Yes, anyhow, this glass. Use it to search for the amulet."

The beast grunted, and spun on her heels.

Stan quivered like a leaf and tried to clear his throat, but yet again she just barreled right past him.

Caius did clear his throat, staring pointedly at Stan and gesturing his gleaming head towards the retreating orc.

Stan found himself shaking his head. But why? What in oblivion was freezing him in place like this?

Caius rolled his eyes, grabbed Stan's sleeve, and dragged him down to the lower quarters.

"Kid, you've been bugging me for the past week, going after this...girl." Caius seemed uncertain about defining her as such. "Go the hell after her!"

"B-but..." it took him a whole week too long to realize what he was doing, and only when he actually faced her did he realize just how nuts he must seem. He could be charitably described as an enthusiastic adoring fan. Less charitably, a weird obsessed stalker.

When he found the words to tell Caius the man massaged his temples. "I'm not your fairy godmother, and I'm too tired to come up with some cure for your cold feet. I have crucial imperial business to attend to. If you wanna be an apprentice, I can make you useful. Otherwise, get your prize or go home."

Stan's decision, however, has already been made.


	9. Chapter 9

There was only one option he could reasonably, chose. After all, he was a coward.

Old habits quickly overtook him once he returned to his shack on the waterfront; he followed the relatively dull matches. None were worth betting on. Besides, his previous winnings were safe and sound in the imperial bank, no reason for his old bullies to know.

"Well, well well! Lookie at what's the Khajiit dragged in!" the dunmer boy sneered as Stan arrived at the arena grounds. He poked Stan's belly. "Did mommy take aways the sweet rolls? Ya musts be starvin'! "

Stan couldn't even bring himself to feel scared or even annoyed. He walked around the dunmer and shuffled towards the waterfront district.

"Hey!" the dunmer grabbed Stan by the shirt. "Why aren't youse crying? Little bitch boy!"

Stan pulled back his collar out of the boys grip. "Sorry." he spat, and tried to trudge away.

"Oh, yous is sorry, aint ya?" the dark elf lunged.

Stan sidestepped, and the dark elf stumbled. Stan took this opportunity to run for it.

He slammed through the archway into the temple district. His boots screeched in their tracks when he nearly collided with a guard.

"Trouble?" the guard scowled down at him.

"No si-" Stan stumbled as the dark elf barreled into him.

The dark elf stood stiffly at the sight of the guard.

Stan took the chance to leisurely loop around the district in full sight of the guards back to the arena.

"Ah, my favorite customer!" Hundolin greeted Stan through clenched teeth. "Another bet to make for today's match? We have a gladiator advancement fight today."

Stan shook his head. "Actually, you said you had a raincheck for the rest of my winnings."

Hundolin's lips pinched. "Well. Yes. Right." He huffed, fidgeting with his small chest. "I've ran into a few delays, I'm afraid."

Stan groaned. He could be satisfied with his winnings, but he could no longer tolerate being swindled. "Next week." He said sternly, and turned to shuffle away.

"Wait," Hundolin clapped a hand on his shoulder. "I need a favor. One Bosmer to another?"

Uh oh.

"I'm in a bit of trouble. I'm... A bit behind in our funds."

"How? You're not supposed to do anything with the...funds...oh, for the love of Sanguine, Hundolin!"

"But I have a plan to get the money! The Gray Prince has been itching for a real fight again. He says he's had enough with dumb beasts-he wants to fight something intelligent again. And of course I certainly wouldn't mind that-could you imagine the bets we would get? But of course no one has had the gall in over a decade. But, I think I found a little incentive to get people to throw their lives away again." Hundolin dug through his shirt pocket. He waved Stan towards himself, hunching protectively over his fist. Stan approached, and the pair of manlets huddled over Hundolin's hand as he slowly unwrapped his fingers around this prospective trophy.

"By the Nine!" Stan shouted, immediately hushed by Hundolin."Where did you get it?" Stan hissed.

"A friend outside the city walls aquired it. He 'finds' a lot of things-I know better than to ask from where."

"Obviously! That right there is the amulet of Kings!"

"Sure," Hundolin rolled his eyes. "Stan the scholar and master jeweller knows what the Amulet of Kings looks like. Look at this cheap chain!"

"I'm serious! The Blades have been looking for it!"

"Oh, are you a Blade too?!" Hundolin wheezed. "They must be pretty garbage at their job them if ol' Sam got a hold of it."

"Sam? You mean-"

"Ssshhh! I've said too much."Stan could only sputter. For all Caius's skills and connections, they turned out to be his weakness as well.

Weeks earlier, as they had set out for Cloud Ruler temple, Caius had made one last stop after leaving that letter with the beggar woman. He had told Stan to wait while he jogged up to a hooded man slithering along the city wall. Most locals knew of a black market dealer who stood around the outer walls: Shady Sam, he was called.

The two smiled, chatted about something for a minute, and exchanged a set of packages. They were standing so close together, it was difficult to tell from so far off, but it was absolutely possible that the man was a pickpocket.

Stan swore.

"Anyway," Hundolin shook Stan out of his thoughts. "You've been following the Beast around, right? I need her!"

Stan frowned. "Why?"

Hundolin pulled him further into their huddle. "I have to pull a few strings to 'catch up,' you know? Everyone is going to bet on the Gray Prince, she wins, and I use the winnings to pay you off, as well as some...other...debtors."

"Hundolin?" Stan cleard his throat. "This might be a strange question for The Beast's biggest fan to ask, but how come you're so sure that she'll win?"

Hundolin's whisper quieted further into an intense hiss. "He'll not be in his best fighting shape, okay? Go find her, get her in the ring, and she'll win that amulet."

* * *

AN:

Hey guys, I'm terribly sorry about the long delay. In between studying for my CompTIA exam (yay, I passed!) and ironically immediately dealing with a hard drive death and data loss immediately after (RIP in Peace, all my projects), I've been scrambling lately.

Funny enough, the propose of this fic was just to not care and word vomit a story out. And now here I am getting a little invested in Stan and his quest for the girl of his dreams. Of course, when I start to care, and when I start to try, that's when it gets difficult to write =P I feel like I need to remind myself to stay silly.

In the spirit of such silliness, I have created a "Stan Mixtape" linked on my main page, if anyone is at all interested in a playlist of songs just for him.


	10. Chapter 10

Song fic time! Everybody's favorite!

* * *

_You're a perfect person for a guy like me._

"I need a ride to Bruma."

"Kid, Black Horse Courier is not a taxi service."

"I...ahem, know Caius Cosades."

"I believe one of our boys will be back at noon. Give us a night to rest the horse, and we can bring you up there."

_And your eyes are shining like the Topal Sea. _

"By Azura..."

"Uhh, do I know you?"

"Um, er, I don't think-"

"Look, pipsqueak, I'm a little busy."

"W-wait!"

"What?!"

"I've got news from Hundolin. T-there's a new tournament. He's g-giving out the amulet as a prize."

"..."

_I wish you could be mine for eternity. Would you please be mine? _

"Don't have to tell me twice. Anything for another match. And to get out of searching for a needle in a haystack."

"Hurry, the Mythic Dawn may have already found out about the tournament. They could attack the arena at any moment."

"Yeah, Joffers, I just said you don't have to tell me twice."

"We don't have time for your sass. Now go with Stan and get back in the arena."

"Who-? Oh."

"H-hi..."

_You trapped my soul, you broke my law. I know you're a thief, cause you stole my heart. _

"Hurry up, short stack!"

"Yes, ma'am!"


	11. Chapter 11

_AN: Sorry about the long wait! I wanted to wait until I finished the next chapter before posting this one. And the next chapter turned out to be a long one!_

* * *

Dear diary,

Praise Boethia the amulet has been found! All we have to do is win it back. After Hundolin found it, we discussed staging a heist. I'm sure that if Caius and Jauffre could manage to agree on something, it would be to just take it, but really, where's the fun in that? I can get back to fighting _and _I can get the amulet back. Two birds, one warhammer, or something.

Yesterday, we headed back the imperial city. It feels weird to say "we." But it's nice, I think.

I don't know why I decided to keep this guy around after he told me about the amulet. Truth be told, I don't remember seeing any puny elves hanging around the Blades, but he must be with them if he knows about the amulet. Maybe it's because he looks a little familiar, but I can't remember how I know him. Maybe I thought it was funny to drag around a little elf, or that he was funny. Which he is, when he isn't looking like a beaten puppy.

Oh well. I'm just glad to be heading back. Sort of. I've got a lot of explaining to do.

Love, Gargak gra-Nolob

✧༺ ༻∞ ∞༺ ༻✧

Dear Diary,

Mama's letter is keeping me up all night. I'm trying to get back to the arena as fast as I can, I'm just lucky that it just so happens to be where the Blades want me now too. I'm so sick of being bossed around by everyone.

✼ ҉ ✼ ҉ ✼ ҉ ✼ ҉ ✼ ҉ ✼

Dear diary,

It's been 3 days since I left cloud ruler temple. I miss seeing him. I've never met a guy like him. Sensitive. Handsome. Intelligent. He's not like the orc boys at all that Mama keeps making me hang out with.

Oh, Martin's so soft spoken and well read. Of course he wouldn't care about an ugly orc girl like me but why can't I try? He was all trying to avoid eye contact with me last time. I think he's shy! ❤ ❤ ❤

Well, I'd better get to bed. That little wood elf with the weird hairdo is wondering what I'm giggling about. Good night, diary!

Love, Mrs. Gargak gra-Nolob Septim ❤ XOXOX ❤

*＊✿❀ ❀✿＊*

Dear diary,

Another one of those portals to oblivion showed up. We're going through a tight ravine. I don't think there's any way around it.

That tiny elf has been shaking like a leaf. Isn't he supposed to be one of the Blades or something? So much for not judging a book by its cover

The only way to get out is to go through. I've done it before.

Wish me luck, diary.

Dear Diary,

I've lost track of how long we've been in this hell hole. It's so tiring. Sleeping's a terrible idea, and it's so sweltering in here anyway. We don't have a whole lot of water, so it's kind of a big deal.

And who is this little shrimp, anyway? He is so useless in here! I haven't seen him cast a spell or draw a weapon once. He's always squeaking and recoiling and I have to keep saving him. Honestly, what do the Blades see in him?

Whatever, I need to get going. Love you diary!

»»—- —-««

Dear Diary,

That little elf, he died. Fell off a bridge between the towers when a Clannfear ambushed us. That thing nearly knocked me off too. I killed it, and I tried to find the elf's body. Gone. Probably dragged off by some Daedra for them to eat. That's what they do, right? I had to give up and just take the Sigil Stone and get out of there.

I'm finally back in our world and able to get water and some rest, but I just can't sleep! Why does this stuff still bother me? Mama says it's not very orc - like. Understandable. Like I don't kill people all the time in the ring or anything! Jeez.

I don't know. That elf boy. He was kind of weird, really quiet, but he wasn't a bad guy. He was no warrior. Maybe that's why it bugs me. Kind of like those people at Kvatch.

Ugh, whatever. People die. They die all the time! I can't just cry about it like some weakling. I don't need to get all upset and write about my precious widdle feelings!

Stupid diary.


	12. Chapter 12

"Where in Oblivion have you been?!"

Gargak gra-Nolob huffed and rolled her eyes. "Well, Oblivion, for one thing."

Mama shot a piercing glare down her nose. Her lip ring ground against her left tusk, and Gargok could swear that another gray hair sprouted. "Don't you get smart with me, young lady. You've kept the fans waiting for a week now!"

"Fans?" Gargak snorted. "I don't have fans!"

"I've pulled a lot of strings to stall this tournament. Get your ass down to the blood works and beg Ysabel for another chance!"

Gargok huffed and marched for the stairs.

.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・．

3 days sounded like sufficient notice for the fans. As it turned out, Mama was embellishing, as usual. Hundolin hadn't even made the public announcement, as the turnout for facing the gray prince was predictably dismal. So there little Hundolin was, standing rather uncomfortably in the pit, his tiny voice carried by the magical acoustics of the colosseum.

"It's absolutely open for all!" he cried. "Any one of you could be or next hero!" he brandished the massive gem that filled his tiny palm. "To wear this token of the Crimson Champion!"

Was this blasphemy? Gargok didn't have the education to say. Neither, apparently, did the roaring crowd. None apparently were any the wiser that it was the damn emperor's jewelry!

"Please, sign up by the betting table of you have the guts!" he dared.

Of course, Gargok already signed up. So far it was just her and the Gray Prince. Hundolin, hungry for more matches - - and more bets - - left out that little tidbit.

And now, it was basically public knowledge that the amulet of kings was up for grabs.

✧༺ ༻∞ ∞༺ ༻✧

"Are you forgetting something?"

Gargok growled and threw up her hands. "Whaaat?"

Mama held up a small phial,eyes shifting. Gingerly, Gargok approached. With one last check for onlookers, Gargok snatched the phial and stuffed it down her front.

Gargok spun around and nodded at the fighters practicing and resting in the Blue Team's red room. They stared. A dark elf nodded her way. She huffed and curtly nodded back. She made her way past the font and to the pit door. Rummaging through her blue arena garb, she extracted the phial from her bra.

A crimson liquid swirled and pulsed as if it had a will of its own. Like a liquid flame, it flickered licked the sides of the small container. Gargok flipped the cork off the phial and made the mistake she always made of sniffing the stuff. Her eyes watered. Malacath's toenail, that was foul. Even her nose hairs recoiled.

"Ugh," she pressed the phial to her lips and was just about ready to throw back her head and dump it down her throat.

But then, she thought, "What the hell?"

She pocketed the phial back into her bra, gripped her warhammer, and stormed through the door.

"Good people of Cyrodill and the empire near and far, welcome to the arena!" the announcer's voice boomed above the roaring spectators. "This is the moment beyond games. The moment we've been waiting for. Two champions walk to their fates. One will meet their end."

Gargok rolled her shoulders. She was ready. Potion or not. She was a real orc, after all. If you're going to fight one, you'd better fight as one.

"Lowerrrrr the gates! "

Gargok was not trembling in her boots. Really. She wasn't. Maybe she should have taken the - - _no! Put on your big girl panties and win or die! _

She swung the warhammer over her head, sprinting and roaring into the ring.

The Gray prince stood there. Just stood there.

She darted to the side just before she could hit him. He was up to something.

Cheap tricks? How unbecoming of an orc. Especially the Grand Champion. She would say this was unlike the friendly, generally likable and honorable hero of the arena, but really, she had never seen him in battle. No one had for a long time.

Well, he wouldn't get the drop on her. She spun on her heels and leapt back, ready to sidestep and flank him.

He didn't even move.

She flung the warhammer over her head, releasing it from one hand to plunge to her waist and pull out a sword breaker, a long dagger with notches running down the blade. Holding it at the ready for his comeback, Gragak-no, The Beast-swung down her mighty warhammer.

It grazed past his ear and landed inches from his foot.

Bastard didn't move an inch.

"Hey!" she growled over the growing boos of the crowd. "What's the matter? You too tired, old man?"

His shoulders slumped, and his sword dangled from his hand to rest on the pit dirt. His eyes didn't even meet hers as he said, "Just finish me already."

This was no trick. "What?!" The Beast spat.

"I can't live knowing..what I am... I hired an investigator to find out who my fate was...it was a mistake. Just kill me. Please. It's what I want."

"Well," she shifted in her sandals. "Where's the fun in that? No blaze of glory?"

"I don't ca-"

SMACK

Gragok struck his face with an open palm. "Look at all the fans here and start caring!"

A tomato smacked her arm and another hit his back. Really, how could he ignore that crowd?

"Shut up and just get it over with!"

Gragok scoffed and dug her fists into her hips. Really now!

As subtly as one can while under the gaze of a thousand spectators, she blessed her luck and grabbed the phial with the potion.

She crushed it in her fist, wincing a bit at the sting. Holding up her sword breaker, she smeared the fluid mingling with her blood over the serrated blade.

"If luck is with us," a smirk ran across her face as she felt the concoction setting fire to her veins, "I'll give you a good death."

In a quick sweep, she sliced the blade across his bare arm, just below his noble raiment.

The fury potion worked its usual magic as Gragok's vision blurred and her memory faded.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。゜。°。°。°。

。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°

The Beast's vision faded back to the sight of The Grey Prince's bloodied corpse and the searing pain of a deep gash in her side.

She doubled over and grimaced. She was surprised to be alive against a foe just as drugged up as she. At least it seems he went down with an actual fight.

"Grand Champion..." the announcers tone had grown impatient. "You may claim your prize now."

The Beast liked around dazed and saw Hundolin, presenting fine red raiment.

She walked up, took it in her hands, and grunted. "It's s'well, I guess. Where's the amulet?"

Hundolin cleared his throat. "This is just the tournaments first round."

"But I just beat the Grand Champion!"

"Well, others have signed up too! You can check the brackets at your convenience!"

Hundolin spun on his heel and matched into the yellow team's blood works.

The Beast snorted and glanced up at the cheering and booing crowd. Mama sat in her usual box, gesturing with both hands above her head. The Beast held the beautiful red rainment of the grand champion over her head and the crowd went wild.

Gragok trudged out from the blood works. What now?

This amulet business was growing old, throwing her for loops at every turn. Ever since she got that cursed thing from that crazy old man they said was the emperor. She still wasn't completely convinced.

But still, for once it wasn't getting in the way of her career this time. She could get it back in the tournament, Mama would be pleased, and Jofferey would get off her back. She was a warrior after a-

"By Azura, by Azura, By Azura, it's the grand champion! I can't believe it's you, standing here, next to me!"

Gragok spun to her right and nearly gasped at the little elf she'd nearly stepped on. And she looked again. And then she could do nothing but stand petrified at what was now in front of her. There was no mistaking it.

Her beady eyes grew wide and she gaped at him.

A twin, or at least a relative. It had to be.

" D-do I know you?"

"Oh, I wish I could say you do!" he covered his pink cheeks.

"What's your name again?"

"It's Stan. Oh, it's such an honor to meet you!"

Witnesses say that they saw The Beast, Grand Champion of the arena, contestant for the Crimson Championship, collapse at the sight of a tiny bosmer. They say that the ground quaked.


	13. Chapter 13

The beast groaned under the damp washcloth, and her cold forehead grazed against Stan's hand. He gasped, and her beady eyes fluttered open. Her eyelashes were dark and thick. They looked so soft against such a hard face.

"You..." she groaned.

The pounding of metal in the downstairs shop ceased. "Is she up?" hollered the gruff voice of Mama gra-Gok, as the stern old woman had addressed herself.

Before Stan could even stammer a reply, Mama gra-Gok thundered up the stairs, rubbing her soot-stained fingers furiously against a rag. She pursed her lips, and the gold ring looped around her lower lip twitched like an irritated khajiit's tail.

"By Malacath," she tutted at The Beast laying in the cot. "Are you happy now? Embarrassing your own mother like you've got a point to prove?"

"Grrrmmm!" The Beast threw herself back on the bed, tossed her arms over her face and moaned in frustration. "_What_ point?"

"Don't play stupid!" Mama gra-Gok tossed the soot-stained rag at The Beast. "You wanna be a weak woman? Then you can do weak woman chores!"

"I beat the Gray Prince! Someone rigged it because he sure didn't feel like fighting, but you saw I...changed his mind and he fought me like a man. How's that for 'weak woman?'"

Mama gra-Gok's tiny dark eyes flickered towards Stan, then back to her daughter. "I'll have words for you on that one later! Now go get the laundry!" She thrust a finger at The Beast, spun on her heels and slammed the door.

The Beast sighed, pushing herself upright. Now that he was no longer fretting over her, the realization just hit Stan.

He was in a girl's room. Alone. With the grand champion herself...he gulped.

"How do your ears get so pink? Is that an elf thing?"

His eyes refocused and he realized The Beast was looking _at him and he was in her room _and he was getting dizzy. With terror.

_Stan, what are you doing? You're gonna blow it, you know. Just get outta here._

"Uh, er-"

"Ugh." she rolled her eyes. "OK. I have a couple simple questions for you. Think you can handle that?"

Stan nodded numbly, and just before he considered any implications.

"What are you?" Her stare hardened.

Stan blinked. "What do -? "

"You're gonna say you're just a little elf, right? Nothing unusual?"

"U-uh..." He stammered. "Yes?"

"I guess I must be crazy then." The Beast crossed her rippling arms. "Well, off to check on that dumb amulet."

Mama gra-Gok loudly cleared her throat from downstairs.

"And do laundry!" The Beast yelled, rolling her eyes and snatching up the rag and stomping towards a basket in the corner of the room.

As she hosted it and stepped towards the stairs, Stan scuttled after her. "Um, I can run your laundry, I can do anything you need..." What was he even saying?! As if she would even want him aro-

"Sure," The Beast tossed the laundry basket to Stan. The weight and force of it knocked him on his rump. "Meet me at the arena when you're done. I'm gonna need someone small."

* * *

A/N: Guys, I never learn. I've been getting sidetracked with another story that won't stop knocking around in my brain which is WAY too ambitious and I'll probably never finish =/


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